Pain avoiders can't fathom BDSM. Too binary. The thought of inflicting pain evaporates like that Banksy. The thought of being in pain is even more instantly mind-shred. So where does the pleasure chime in? Thinking about the amount of discomfort I OKd and endured back then just to get to the pleasure. That evokes cries of "all of life can't be a pleasure" but you can give it a leading role whenever possible.

The dilemma today is to bask while the preceding has more places needing filling. The alternative would be self-fulfilling but not a finisher. If you did your best version of completion then go ahead and bask. The amount of attention needed to doggie-concierge requires the best effort, case rested.

Laughing at fuckups only works when you're still OK when you're hilariously retelling the story. My Last Fuckup would be a story to behold. It's about a guy who never again botched a big one. The homecoming is a day away (possibly).